As fierce the imbodied train
Form'd on the embattled plain,
Yet not a cheek was pale;
Our yeomen mark'd their strong array,
Saw proud the lion-streamers play.
And thought of Home and Beauty,
While many maidens' anxious sighs,
And many mothers' prayers arise,
That each might do his duty.

And now the marshall'd train
Rush o'er the embattled plain,
Amid the cannon's roar,
The hostile fronts resound,
And many strew'd the ground
Ere battle's rage was o'er.
Ah! many a gallant soul expired,
Too well with patriotic feeling fired,
For Freedom, Home, and Beauty;
Yet who for country fighting dies,
Ever with the bless'd must rise,
For he hath done his duty.
Peace to the patriot dead,
Entomb'd in Honour's bed,

In glorious contest slain;
The land that gave such birth
Well mourns their parted worth,
And mourns them not in vain ;
For ne'er shall Freedom's hallow'd name
Die, while their lives but yet the name
Of Country, Home, and Beauty,
And who for these are fighting slain,
In the next world shall meet again,

For they have done their duty.

Nor yet the struggle's o'er
That fiercer than before

The midnight's gloom assail;
Such desolating shocks,

As when the mountain's rocks
Are tumbling to the vale:
The shores re-echoed with the blast;
Firm stood each freeman to the last,
For Freedom, Home, and Beauty;
Till dimmer flash and fainter roar,
Mark'd the invaders 'd quit that shore
Where each had done his duty.

140

SOLDIERS OF COLUMBIA.

YE soldiers of Columbia,

Who guard the sacred cause,
The freedom of your native land,
Its altars and its laws;
Unfurl your eagle-flag again,

To meet your ancient foe!
And stand, sword in hand,

When the battle-storm shall blow;
When the tempest rages through the land,
And the battle-storm shall blow.

Sound, sound the trump of vengeance,

The combat has begun!

'Tis Freedom bids you march away,

And Glory leads you on!
Where Montgomery nobly bled,

We'll drive the flying foe;

And Fame shall proclaim

When the battle-storm shall blow,
The pride and splendour of your name,
When the battle-storm shall blow.

Columbia needs no navies,

No bulwark but the sea;
Her strength is in a million hearts,
Determined to be free:
With the mountain-arms of Freedom
We'll crush the haughty foe,
As they pour to our shore

When the battle-storm shall blow,
When the clanging trumpet sounds the charge,
And the battle-storm shall blow.

Wave! wave, my gallant heroes,

Your banners to the sky!

And every man march on, resolved
To conquer or to die!
The spirit of great Washington
Shall lead us to the foe;

And Glory, in her story,

When the storm has ceased to blow,
Your names the world through shall resound,
When the storm has ceased to blow;
When Peace shall from the heavens descend,
And the storm has ceased to blow.

141

PEACE.-1815.

Song, on the restoration of Peace, by a gentleman of Baltimore.

BRAVE Sons of Columbia, by valour inspired,
The empire of law you have nobly defended;

Secured are the rights which your fathers acquired, And like theirs, through the world your renown has extended.

On the land and the main, every effort was vain,
In the circle of glory your course to restrain.

For no right would you yield, not an inch would retire;

Were your charter consumed, in its flames you'd

expire.

Heaven arm'd your brave chiefs, though but striplings in war,

From the portals of Freedom triumphantly thunder'd; The climes of the east heard the sound from afar,

And at deeds so transcendent exultingly wonder'd; Every bolt that was hurl'd, every flame as it curl'd, From the chains of the ocean enfranchised the world, And no right, &c.

You've a clime in which Nature delights to expand,
And the range of the mind boasts co-equal extension;
The broad beams of science illumine your land,
And the arts into life make each useful invention.
No intolerance degrades, no bigotry shades,
No vile superstition your temples invades,

And no right will you yield, not an inch will retire; If your charter's consumed, in its flames you'll expire. Your union's a knot no intrigue can untie,

A band which the sword of no tyrant can sever; Chased by Reason, the shades of Opinion shall fly,

And the murmurs of Faction be silenced forever, From the father to son, every blessing you've won, Unimpair'd to the last generation shall run;

For no right, &c.

Now 'tis yours in the shade of mild peace to repose;

May your shores form a couch to the heart-broken stranger;

Bright Liberty's balm heal Humanity's woes,

And the broad shield of law case the exile from danger. In each year as it flies, may new blessings arise, And grateful your vows ever mount to the skies, That no right, &c.